


Run His Hands Through My Hair

by glyph_of_wolves



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyph_of_wolves/pseuds/glyph_of_wolves
Summary: Jon doesn't know how he feels about touch. Martin wants to show he still cares.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 2
Kudos: 139





	Run His Hands Through My Hair

Jon wouldn’t say that he hated people touching him. In fact, for the majority of his life he didn’t mind it at all, as long as the touch came from a non-threatening place. Tender pats on the head were few and far between for a child living with his grandmother, but they were occasionally there to remind him that she had not forgotten his existence. 

Georgie used to play with his hair in college, before he had cut it all off in a meager attempt to appear professional. Before their relationship turned rocky and her fingers threading through his mop felt less like loving comfort and more like obligation. 

His hair was short, when he’d arrived at the archive. Now it was shoulder length and full again. Tim had commented on the length back when Jon had started forgetting to cut it. He had ignored the other man at first, used to his ribbing, until an unwanted hand found its way to his scalp, and suddenly he was darting away, breath caught in his throat. 

He never got to apologize for that. 

It wasn’t just because at the time he had a misguided suspicion that Tim had possibly murdered his predecessor, though perhaps that would have somehow been more logical. It was the disconnect between that feeling of familiar comfort and how he was actually feeling that made him want to get away. It felt like spiders on his skin, like burning, and the feeling only got worse as time went on.

Martin loved it when people touched him. He’d been told by quite a few people over the years that he was great at hugs. But it was never enough, and it was never by the right people. He tried so desperately to care for people, to connect to them, that when ultimately they pushed him aside it felt like sandpaper rubbing on his skin.

He knew that Jon didn’t like people touching him. He respected this, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel warm whenever Jon took a mug out of his hands, or stood just close enough in the office that his jacket caught on Martin’s sweater. 

Martin noticed Jon’s hair. He noticed how tangled it got sometimes, and had to hide his laugh once when Jon placed a pen behind his ear and it ended up caught in the rat’s nest that was growing on the side. Jon was incredibly meticulous in how he dressed and styled himself, and early on he always seemed so put together, even when his hair got longer. There was never anything unprofessional about it, but Martin could tell when the length stopped being a choice. He noticed it when Jon was in his coma. He’d read somewhere that hair always looks longer after someone dies. It definitely did now. He stopped paying attention when Peter arrived. Best not to get distracted.

When Jon came bursting into his office, manic and hopeful, announcing that he’d found a way that they could escape together of all things, Martin noticed it again for the first time in months. It was knotted and oily, far too straight, in Martin’s opinion. He didn’t comment on it. When Jon had saved him from the Lonely and held him tightly in his arms until the sound of waves faded, Martin’s fingers tangled in it as they embraced.

The drive to the safe house was… nice. Quiet, but nice. Jon drove. Martin was still exhausted from the ordeal that had only taken place a day ago. They held hands through the drive, as if to remind each other that they were still there. 

The safehouse was cozy to say the least, with a small kitchen, one bedroom, a living room with one of those old iron fireplaces, and a bathroom with a standalone tub, and Jon was nervous. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror for awhile, wondering when it had changed so much and thinking about what he was doing. This was so new, he didn’t want to mess it up somehow. He wanted to be better, and to prove without a doubt how much he trusted Martin. How much he… cared for him.

Martin was thinking much the same as he placed his clothes in the dresser. He knew that not everything would be perfect at first, but maybe it could be. Maybe. Even if it couldn’t be, he was going to prove that despite what the lonely had done to him, he still cared. He finished unpacking. He wandered over to the bathroom door, leaning against the frame slightly as he watched Jon picking at and playing with his hair in the mirror. The words came out of his mouth before he could think about what he was saying. 

“Can I wash your hair?” 

“What?” Jon responded in bewilderment, as if he hadn’t fully processed the question. Martin backtracked.

“I mean, obviously you can do that by yourself, but I figured if it’s bothering you, and I grabbed some stuff when we stopped at my flat, and it might be nice, but I shouldn’t have assumed-” 

“It’s- it’s fine, Martin,” He let out a breath, and pushed himself away from the sink and his reflection, looking up at the other man. “I think that might be nice, actually,” He gave Martin a soft smile before frowning. 

“You are right though, I don't want you to think I can't take care of myself. It's been... hard recently to get the motivation, what with everything going on. And I don't want you to think that you need to do anything for me,” Martin rested a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. 

“Jon, nothing would make me feel less lonely than taking care of you,” he said, "And if you ever want me to stop I will because you are the strongest man I know," he laughed a bit hysterically at the end, and Jon believed him. 

Jon was warm. He hadn’t noticed that he’d been cold. He closed his eyes as Martin worked his fingers into his scalp. It felt nice. It smelled nice, too. Like the opposite of dust covered files and old books, whatever that was. He heard Martin behind him, humming a song he didn’t recognize, and let out a contented sigh, finally letting himself feel safe and cared for.

And Martin was happy, so desperately happy to just be able to touch the man that he loved. To care for him, without needing to hide behind the guise of looking after a colleague or needing to cater to the whims of some terrible fear god. It was almost laughable to him now that he had almost stopped wanting this. 

Jon curled into Martin that night, and the larger man ran his fingers through Jon’s hair. And for just a moment, everything was alright. 

**Author's Note:**

> And then they were fine, forever, thank you very much.  
> I'm not sure how I feel about this but it's been sitting on my computer for awhile now so I just wanted to get it out there. Might edit a bit more later.  
> In the meantime, thanks to my two beta readers for this fic: super-lisa and kiszmet on tumblr!  
> This is based on my head canon that Jon has thick, kind of wavy hair but he sucks at taking care of it, especially as the seasons progress.  
> Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT: wanted to make it clear that jon is not a messy or purposefully careless person, just that he's suffering from serious executive dysfunction due to depression and trauma.


End file.
